Someone Like You. Karen Rock
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it, MaryAnne. Aiden needs you.”
When she looked up, perspiration glistened on her forehead. She gestured around the room. “Not as much as you do.”
He ground his teeth. MaryAnne should be picking out wedding flowers, not wasting her time on him. He coughed at the cloud of lemon-scented furniture polish she sprayed on his coffee table, and gathered up the newspapers tossed beside his couch. When his prosthetic caught on the table’s edge, he went down hard.
MaryAnne knelt by his side, but he shook off her arm and stood. “I’ve got this. Go.” He instantly regretted his harsh tone when her mouth puckered. “Sorry. Look. Pick out china patterns and stop worrying about me. I want you to be happy.”
Her eyes glistened. “I am. Do you know how lucky we are to have you home in one piece?”
He flinched at her phrase, and she turned bright scarlet. “I just mean I’ll never take you for granted. After almost losing you...” She cleared her throat and hurried to the kitchen. “I’m not giving up on you,” she added over her shoulder.
The tap turned on then off, and she returned with a glass of water for the spider plant. Light flooded the room when she raised the shades, and he blinked until his eyes adjusted. It was a beautiful day, the kind of day you’d least expect an ambush. His mind returned to the day of his accident, and he whirled from the windows. “Close the shades, MaryAnne.”
“This plant’s never going to thrive without sun.”
“Don’t you get it? Nothing thrives in here.”
She pressed her cheek against his back, her arms slipping around his waist. “Then it’s time I got you outside.”
“I’ll see you next week on the Fourth of July.”
“Uh-uh. Not soon enough. You’re going out tomorrow.”
“Why? I had groceries delivered this week.”
A familiar smile played on MaryAnne’s face as she ducked under his arm and faced him. It was the kind of expression she wore whenever she’d sneaked medicine into a spoonful of jelly for him. Whatever she had up her sleeve, it wasn’t going to be good.
“A friend needs you, Niall. I spoke with her when she visited the assisted-living facility yesterday.”
“I don’t have any friends,” he said drily. Did she think he had some secret social life? His closest relationships these days were with the pizza delivery people.
Her smile widened, and unease twisted through him. He was in real danger when she looked this disarming.
“Kayleigh Renshaw.”
The name hit him like a punch to the solar plexus. Kayleigh. His rescuer’s younger sister and the best friend he’d ever had.
They’d once been as close as family. Guilt rolled through him at the loss he’d cost her. Worse, he was under orders not to speak about the classified mission, the reason he’d avoided her since Afghanistan. How could he see her and not tell her what had happened? If she knew the truth, she wouldn’t want to see him anyway—she’d hate him.
“Tell her I’m too busy.”
“She just lost her fiancé and her job.” MaryAnne smoothed back his overgrown bangs like a mother fussing over a child. “Kayleigh needs you to cheer her up, Niall. Remember how tight you two were?”
He couldn’t forget if he tried. And he’d given it his best shot these past two years. But putting Kayleigh out of his mind was impossible. Then again, what if she really did need help? He’d already stolen so much from her.
He pictured Kayleigh’s flashbulb of a smile, her bright eyes and the giggle that’d bubbled up even at the worst of his jokes. Only, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d said, or heard, something funny. He’d come to her rescue when her parents had split and she’d needed comfort, distracting her and keeping her spirits up. But he wasn’t the hero in anyone’s story. Not anymore.
“I’m sorry. The answer’s no.” He pulled down the shade, plunging his apartment, and life, back into comforting gloom.
MaryAnne planted fists on her hips. “I promised her that you’d see her. Maybe give her some tips on jobs in the software market.”
He swept a duster over his end tables, then plugged in the vacuum cleaner. “I do contracting work from home. I don’t have those kinds of connections.”
“She looks miserable, Niall. Please. Help me keep my word to her, and I’ll promise to keep mine with you.”
He sighed.
“Which one? That you won’t call every day? Bring food twice a week, clean my apartment when it’s fine the way it is?”
MaryAnne snorted. “This is also your office, not a barn. I made a reservation for lunch tomorrow at Five Leaves.”
He rubbed his jaw stubble. “I’m not the right guy for this. Better cancel it.” A restless feeling overtook him, and he wondered, despite himself, if he wouldn’t like to see Kayleigh. Even if it was just to reassure himself that she was all right.
MaryAnne’s eyes crinkled. “What’s the harm in a meal with an old friend?”
He held in a bitter laugh. If she knew the truth... But it was a secret he had to bear alone, the weight of it dragging him to dark places. And that was without the added guilt of a woman’s friendship that he didn’t deserve.
“Out of the question.” He flicked on the vacuum, hoping its hum would convince MaryAnne to leave. He didn’t want to be rude. She meant well. But she needed to focus on herself instead of him—and now Kayleigh.
The vacuum shuddered to a stop, and he glanced up at MaryAnne. She twirled the end of the cord. “She was your friend. Meet with her. Plus, I promise I won’t come by for a week except to drop off your laundry.”
He drummed his fingers on the handle. Save him from pushy women. Fine. He’d see Kayleigh. He owed her that much. More, really, but it was all he could give.
“Two weeks and no laundry,” he countered.
MaryAnne lightly whipped his arm with the cord. “A week and a half, and that’s my final offer before I bring her here myself.”
He glanced around the cramped space, pulse thudding, and threw his hands up in defeat. “I’ll go. But I won’t be able to help her. If you see her tonight, tell her that.”
“Tell her yourself,” MaryAnne called, lugging his laundry out the door before he could stop her. “Twelve o’clock tomorrow!”
Niall stared at the spider plant. What would he say to Kayleigh after shutting her out for two years? How could he face her, knowing her brother’s death was his fault?
He didn’t have a clue.
SLIGHTLY OUT OF breath, Kayleigh rounded the corner onto Bedford Avenue the next day and sidestepped a man wheeling a box-laden dolly. When the humid air blew her frizzing hair in her face, she shoved it back behind her ears. She’d been too excited to see Niall to waste time straightening it, and now she wished she had. At least she’d worn her favorite sundress and lipstick. Appearances had never mattered to them before, yet somehow, today, she cared about how she looked.
“What’s the hold up? Move it, buddy!” a cab driver shouted at a truck blocking traffic. He laid on his horn, and several beeps behind him filled the air. When she passed the road-rage scene, the moist, fresh scent of laundry exploded from a dry-cleaning business as a well-dressed man exited with bagged garments.
Ah, Brooklyn. She would have missed this dynamic borough if she’d married Brett and moved to his condo.